


I May Fail You (But it Doesn't Mean That I Won't Try)

by probsnothawkeye



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Hopeful Ending, Canon Compliant through Season 3, Gen, Mentions of Death, and a bit of a fix-it, from there its canon divergent, jon meets istus and they have a Chat, jon's not suicidal but he is perfectly okay with not being alive, not a taz au but like close i guess, so warnings for that as well, takes place between the end of season three and the start of season 4, taz fusion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:01:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26358400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/probsnothawkeye/pseuds/probsnothawkeye
Summary: “Terribly sorry for scaring you, Jon. I should’ve planned my entrance better, I know how things have been for you as of late.”“Who are you?” Jon asked curtly, eyeing the woman warily before glancing around them to see if there was anyone else coming to attack him. "What is this?"“I’m- hm. I suppose I don’t exactly exist in your world as you know it,” the woman said thoughtfully, clicking her knitting needles together absentmindedly. “I’m known as the Lady Istus,” she said, extending a shimmering hand to Jon. “Or, if you prefer, Fate.”(Title from "Try" by Rob Rokicki)
Relationships: Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Tim Stoker, Jonathan Sims & Istus (The Adventure Zone), Martin Blackwood & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood & Sasha James & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Tim Stoker, Sasha James & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Tim Stoker
Comments: 10
Kudos: 30





	I May Fail You (But it Doesn't Mean That I Won't Try)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello!  
> I'm currently self-isolating because I moved back to Dublin for college which means I actually had time to write!  
> This was definitely inspired by me thinking about The Eleventh Hour again (because it's one of my favorite Balance arcs, I love it so much)  
> It was also inspired by the song "Try" by Rob Rokicki, which was a cut song from The Lightning Thief Musical. I get why they cut it because it doesn't fit the story as well but I love the song so goddamn much so here this is  
> Hope y'all enjoy!

Jon awoke in a dark room, light shining from a doorway down a long hallway. He looked around and found that he was on his feet already, no signs of ever having been asleep in the first place. Puzzled, and seeing no other option, he moved towards the door. For a moment he thought Beholding would inform him of what was to come, but Jon found that he couldn’t See, couldn’t Know, anything in this place. It was comforting, if not disconcerting.

The light coming from the door was soft and warm. It beckoned him closer, but not in the way the Eye did. This was gentle, suggesting not compelling. If Jon wanted, he felt sure he could turn away. But he didn’t want to turn back to the darkness behind him, he wanted to go forward.

So he did.

Making his way through the light, the first thing that greeted him was the sight… of himself. He was younger, clearly less tired. It looked as though it was his first official day at the Institute. He looked… so full of hope. So foolish.

“I don’t think it was foolish to be hopeful, Jon,” a soft voice spoke from behind him, startling Jon. He whipped around, preparing for some sort of blow, but found none. Instead, he found an impossibly tall woman with dark, shimmering skin, pearlescent flowing hair, and a pair of knitting needles. “Terribly sorry for scaring you, Jon. I should’ve planned my entrance better, I know how things have been for you as of late.”

“Who are you?” Jon asked curtly, eyeing the woman warily before glancing around them to see if there was anyone else coming to attack him. There was nothing except the still image of himself on the pavement outside the Magnus Institute for the first time, as if the moment itself were frozen. “What is this?”

“I’m- hm. I suppose I don’t exactly exist in your world as you know it,” the woman said thoughtfully, clicking her knitting needles together absentmindedly. “This was so much easier with the boys…” the woman shook her head, returning her focus to Jon with a warm smile on her face. “I’m known as the Lady Istus,” she said, extending a shimmering hand to Jon. “Or, if you prefer, Fate.”

Jon’s eyes moved back and forth from the hand extended before him to the kind face of the woman, Istus. He could detect no malice or ill intent from her, but without the power of Beholding in the place, he couldn’t be sure if this was a trap or not. Reluctantly, Jon reached out his hand and shook hers, finding it warm and soft in his palm. The burns on Jon’s hands tingled slightly, but not painfully, and he saw a faint glowing within the scars. 

As Jon pulled his hand away, Istus looked at him with a startled look on her face. “Oh! I completely forgot. I’m terribly sorry, Jon, I should’ve realized with your hand… It’s hard to keep track of it all sometimes, what has happened and what could happen that is.”

“Right,” Jon said slowly, studying Istus. “Can you tell me what’s going on now, please?”

“Oh, certainly!” Istus said, a large smile spreading over her face. “Well, you see, Jon, in my world I am known as the goddess of fate, destiny, and time,” she said easily, pulling the knitting needles back out and continuing what looked like an impossibly long scarf that stretched off into the dark behind her. “I’m that in this world as well, though you wouldn’t know it. My role here is much more distant than my role in Faerun and the other planes of that reality. But I do control all of the things I said before, and I’m here to help you.”

“Help… me?” Jon asked, looking at Istus with wide eyes. “Good lord, are you here to kill me?”

Istus dropped her knitting, looking at Jon in horror. “No! No, no, no, of course not! Is that what help means to you in this realm?” Jon shrugged, and Istus closed her eyes for a moment before reaching down to pick her knitting back up. “I… You’re dying, Jon. Right now, in fact. If we’re being completely honest, your mind is the only thing that isn’t dead right now. I’m here to show you your choice, because I fear you’ve given up.”

“I’m dead?” Jon asked with wonder. “And… what, are you trying to make me  _ not _ dead?”

Istus smiled, as if she had thought this would be much harder than it was. “Precisely! The Raven Queen has no dominion in this plane, so I’m free to do this for once. It is crucial that you don’t remain dead.”

Jon stared at Istus in disbelief. “ _ Why _ ? What… Lady Istus, if you’re the goddess of time and fate as you say you are, certainly you see what I’ve… What I’ve become,”  _ A monster _ Jon thought to himself.  _ A paranoid, helpless monster who is only going to get worse.  _ “Surely you should be more interested in stopping me than allowing me to continue.”

The smile that had been gracing Istus’s face dropped as Jon spoke. Reaching out slowly, she brought her hand to his face. “Oh, Jon. This is what I had been afraid of. You really have given up.”

“I hardly see stopping a… a monster from continuing as ‘giving up’,” Jon said, averting his eyes from the goddess’s gaze. “It’s doing what must be done. I’ve… I’ve hurt people. I’ve lost people,  _ failed  _ people. It’s only fair to them that I should fail myself as well.”

Sighing, Istus took a step back from Jon, removing her hand and grabbing her needles again. There was a moment where Jon tensed, sure that she was about to drive those needles into his heart, but instead she put them into a small pouch around her waist. “This is why I’m here, Jon,” she said, gesturing to the scene of the Institute. “To show you. To show you what you’ve done and what you’re doing. And if I show you this and you still wish to continue on past this plane of existence, then that is fine. But I’m hoping I can convince you to return to your world.”

Jon looked dubious, but nodded, allowing Istus to direct his attention back to his younger self. The younger Jon was staring up at the Magnus Institute in awe and disbelief, as if he couldn’t believe he had actually landed the research job. Jon remembered the feeling well. Istus said nothing as they followed young Jon into the Institute and up to the main research library. Young Jon was looking around awkwardly, and Jon’s stomach clenched as he saw his younger self light up at the sight of someone in a bright purple button-up covered in pineapples.

“Tim,” Jon said softly, tears forming in his eyes as he saw the younger version of himself move forward to greet Tim. The two of them shook hands, smiles wide on each of their faces. They had been interns together, helping each other out as they waited to see if they would officially receive job offers from the Institute. Jon remembered the joy in his heart when he found out that he and Tim would be able to continue working together. 

Istus grabbed Jon’s arm and guided him after the younger versions of himself and Tim as they started their first official work day. Jon watched, tears free flowing, as the two helped each other and exchanged pleasant conversation. Hearing Tim’s voice again, so full of light that was directed at Jon, cut like a knife through Jon’s entire being. “Why… why are you showing me this? This is cruel.”

Istus looked at him curiously. “Cruel? I… I thought it would be pleasant, to see your friend again. I thought it would help.”

“He didn’t want to be my friend, in the end,” Jon whispered out, eyes locked on Tim as he threw an arm around the younger Jon. “I did so much that hurt him. Every action unwarranted, every apology came out wrong and… and now he’s dead. He’s dead because of me.”

Jon saw Istus move, quickly holding up her hand and stopping the image in front of them. Jon took a moment to study the small smile on his younger face as Tim’s arm draped over his shoulder, clearly talking about something small but exciting to Tim. The image burned in his mind as Istus waved her hand and the scene faded away. “I’m terribly sorry, Jon. I… I thought this would help,” she ran a shimmering hand through her long hair nervously. “I thought… Well, I thought seeing him would remind you why you’re doing this.”

“I failed him,” Jon said softly but forcefully. “I couldn’t protect him, I led him to his doom, I… I failed.”

There was a moment of silence between the two, and Jon could tell that Istus was warring with herself over what to do. “Jon… if you’ll allow me, I’d like to show you the rest of these scenes. They… They will be like this one, which means they may hurt to see, but I think overall it will be beneficial to my argument. You can say no, I won’t force this upon you. But I do think it will help.”

For a moment, Jon wanted to tell her no. Wanted to tell her that nothing she could show him would be worth the pain it caused, that nothing would be able to convince him that he deserved to keep living. To scream at her that seeing Tim alone had strengthened his resolve to remain dead. But Jon couldn’t shake the image of himself and Tim from his mind. Couldn’t chase away the small smile on his younger face, or the faint feeling of Tim’s arm around his shoulder. This could very well be the last things that he ever saw, perhaps they might even come as a comfort. 

“Alright,” Jon said to Istus, looking her in the eye once again. “Show me what you need to show me.”

Istus looked relieved at Jon’s words, reaching out to clasp his hand and squeeze it tightly before withdrawing it. She pulled her knitting needles back out, waving them into the blackness in front of them, causing new images to float down and build themselves around them. “This one will be a little different, but I can still start and stop it at will if you need a moment to collect yourself.”

Jon nodded, bracing himself for what was to come as the world around them snapped into place. Where the first scene Istus had shown him was outside of the institute, this scene was not. They were in the archives, Jon realized with a start, immediately looking around to see if the young version of himself was there. He was. Jon saw the young versions of himself and Tim talking to some woman Jon didn't recognize. She had puffy brown curls and dark skin, a green cardigan covering a familiar looking shirt. Light glinted off her glasses and brought Jon's attention to her eyes. Familiarity flooded his senses as he looked at her eyes, striking heterochromia that he couldn't believe he had ever forgotten. 

" _ Sasha _ ," Jon gasped out, leaning against Istus for support as his legs started to give. "I… That's her, the real her." Tears were freely falling down his cheeks yet again. 

Istus nodded, running a comforting hand up and down Jon's arm. "I know you had forgotten, but it is indeed her.” 

Memories of Sasha, this Sasha, the  _ real  _ Sasha began playing in the space around Jon and Istus. Meeting her in Research, becoming friends with her and Tim, apologizing when he got promoted over her. Nights out, nights in cuddled together in Tim's flat, the time they threw him a surprise party in the archives. She was there and she was real.

Jon and Istus watched as the memories shifted back into a scene, following closely behind Jon and Sasha and Tim as they worked through a set of statements together. A glance at the calendar on Sasha’s desk told Jon this was when Martin was on leave taking care of his mother, explaining his absence from the scene. He wondered whether he would be shown scenes of Martin in this, before shaking his head and returning focus to Sasha.

“I can’t believe I forgot what she looked like,” Jon said as he watched her laugh, hitting Tim playfully. “The NotThem didn’t look anything like her and I just didn’t know.”

“It’s not your fault, Jon,” Istus started, but Jon cut her off.

“Isn’t it, though? She was my employee, my  _ friend _ . She got killed on my watch and I didn’t even know it. I just accepted that some… some  _ creature _ bearing her name but looking nothing like Sasha was really Sasha. Too wrapped up in my paranoia to do anything, to see what was right in front of me all along.”

Istus said nothing, looking at Jon sadly before raising her hand and freezing the scene. Jon looked at Sasha one last time, studying her face, as the images started to fade away. 

"I'm not technically supposed to do this," Istus said, reaching into the pouch with her knitting needles in it. "But if it'll help you take my offer and bring you some comfort then I suppose I can bend the rules." Smiling, she pulled out a handful of Polaroids and handed them to Jon. He took them carefully, flipping through them to see pictures of himself and his assistants, all smiling and laughing together. 

"Where did you-" 

"Tim had taken them originally," Isust explained as she watched Jon look through the pictures. "When the NotThem replaced Sasha, it took all physical evidence of her it could find. A wall of Polaroids can easily be forgotten when bigger things are at hand. I couldn't help myself, though. This meeting between us has been a possibility floating in front of me for quite some time, so I took the pictures from the NotThem, just in case,” Jon moved to hand the pictures back to the goddess, but she stopped his hand. “Whether or not you take my offer, the pictures belong to you. I wouldn’t hold them over you like this, Jon. They are rightfully yours in this life or the next.”

“Thank you,” Jon said earnestly. “I… Thank you.”

Istus nodded happily as she took out her knitting needles. “There’s just one last set of scenes I need to show you before pleading my case, Jon. Are you ready?” Jon nodded. “Good.”

Jon watched as the archives formed around him once again, this time taking them into his office. He saw his younger self at his desk, reading over some supplements. Before he could ask Istus about the scene before him, the door to the office opened revealing Martin who had come in to bring Jon a cup of tea. 

“Oh,” Jon said softly. “I… I wasn’t sure if I would see him again before…” 

The smile that had graced Istus’s face grew sad at his words. “Martin is quite crucial in my argument, actually,” Istus said, before waving her needles and changing the scene once again. 

Memories once again flooded the space in front of them. Some with the entire archives staff, others just with Martin. More nights out, more simple moments. Soft smiles and loud laughter. Familiarity and warmth flooded Jon, as well as longing. He missed this. He missed when they were all friends, when they were all  _ alive. _

Istus paused the scene, once again his birthday party in the archives, in front of them, looking at Jon as if she had read his thoughts. “Martin is still alive, Jon. Don’t you want the chance to love him?”

Jon smiled sadly, reaching out and cupping Martin’s face, still frozen in time in front of them. "I have never once deserved his love," Jon said, voice cracking over the weight of his emotions. "And I certainly won't deserve it now. I've cost us too much."

The image in front of him faded away slowly, leaving only the blackness and two chairs in front of them. “Have a seat, Jon,” Istus said, taking the larger of the two chairs in the space. “I have shown you what you needed to see, now I will tell you what you need to hear.”

“And then I get to choose?” Jon asked as he sat down across from Istus.

“And then you get to choose,” she repeated with a nod. There was quiet between them for a moment, the only sound being the click of Istus’s knitting needles against each other as she started on that impossibly long scarf yet again. “I’ve had quite some time to think about what I’m going to say to you, Jon,” she started, not looking at him, but rather looking at the knitting in her hand. “I’ve seen some of the potential outcomes of this meeting, and they vary wildly even when I say the same thing. So please know that the only advantage I have here is the ability to prepare words, I have no idea how this will turn out.

“You, Jonathan Sims, are important to this world. You are a piece in a much larger story that is being told in my yarn and upon my tapestry as we speak. Even I don’t know the full shape of that story now, all I know is that you are important to it. And that this meeting is important to it,” Istus set down her knitting for a moment as if suddenly struck by an idea. “Jon, if you had the ability to speak to your friends once again, what would you say?”

Jon looked at the goddess in surprise, finding she was looking at him expectantly. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, arms making their way back to cross in front of his chest. “I would apologize. I would apologize for not seeing what the Institute and Elias were sooner, for not seeing the real problems right in front of me. I would apologize for getting Sasha and Tim killed. I would beg for forgiveness that I have not earned because I have failed them time and time again, but hope they would see that I meant every apology in earnest. I would tell them they were the dearest friends I could ever have hoped for and that I should have let them know how much I loved them sooner.”

“You have failed them, Jon,” she said simply, watching as Jon slumped over in his seat, the weight of her words hitting him square in the chest. “But you are missing a very key fact here, Jon. Yes, you failed in many ways, but you have to remember that you  _ tried _ . You tried to protect them. You tried to keep them safe, and you did this at the expense of yourself. I’m sorry you couldn’t protect them, Jon. I truly am. But with all that is to come, I can promise you you will be more of a failure if you quit now. If you give it all up because it’s easier or because you have a misguided idea that it’s the right thing to do, you will be failing your friends even more than you have already. You will be looking at the memories of them and saying ‘Because you’re dead, I must die before I can fix things’. That, Jonathan Sims, would be a failure.

“You have to live, Jon,” Istus said, waving her needles and casting images of himself and his assistants all over the walls. “You have to  _ try _ . I know it’s hard, and it’s scary, and you feel so very alone,” she said, standing up and placing a hand on Jon’s shoulder, squeezing it lightly. “But you’re not. These people you’ve lost are not gone, Jon. Not really. They live on in your heart, in your memories. Martin has been by your side every day since your body was returned from The Unknowing. You are not alone in this fight.”

Jon looked up at Istus, eyes watery and full of fear. “And if I fail him too?”

“Is the possibility of failure more powerful than the real pain you leaving him right now would cause?” Istus asked. “Giving up now is definitely failing Martin. Holding on and seeing if you can make things right again, trying to make things right again, that’s not failing. Will you try, Jon?”

Jon looked back to the memories flowing through the space around them. Kayaking with Tim for his birthday. Going to the animal shelter with Sasha to get her a cat. The gentle brush of Martin’s fingers against his own every time Martin brought him tea. All-nighters in the archives as they researched Jane Prentiss. Movie nights that Jon felt lucky to even be invited to. Swirls of happiness and friendship and warmth that Jon had missed for so long now, all in front of him, begging him to try.

With tears in his eyes, Jon looked back to Istus. “I’ll try. For them.”

Istus smiled, pulling Jon into her arms and squeezing him tightly. “I believe in you, Jon. You’re going to be amazing.” As she said this, the blackness around them started to fade away. Jon just caught sight of her waving him goodbye as the image faded for good.

Slowly, Jon’s eyes blinked open to see the ceiling of a hospital room. There was something warm in his hand, and Jon looked down to see that it was Martin’s hand. He was asleep, leaning on the corner of Jon’s hospital bed. 

He went to move his other hand to wake Martin up, but was stopped by the feeling of something sharp poking into his palm. Startled, Jon looked over to see a small pile of Polaroid photos resting against his palm. Attached to one was a shimmering post-it note that said but for words:

_ Thank you for trying _ .

Jon looked at the top photo on the pile and saw Sasha, the real Sasha, smiling up at him. Tim at her side, also smiling up at Jon, as if they were telling him thank you, too. Telling him that he could do this. 

And he could.

For them.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are always appreciated but never required. Come hang out with me on [tumblr!](https://ireallyneedabetterusername.tumblr.com/) I have a week and a half left of self-isolation before school starts so if you wanna drop me a prompt, that's the place to do it. Also here are some fun facts about me writing this 
> 
> -I was inspired to do the polaroid bit because of all the tumblr posts that are like "Tim's bi which means he definitely had a polaroid wall so how did they not notice NotSasha sooner" but NotSasha took the tape/statements that were about the NotThem so I figure it would also take the polaroid because it Knows NowTM
> 
> -I gave Sasha heterochromia because I love the idea of "Sasha and NotSasha look nothing alike" and I adore the idea of eyes and eye symbolism being the thing that causes Jon to notice because Beholding is all eyes
> 
> -It's not archives polycule but like if you want it to be, it could be. I was thinking about it a lot as I was writing this
> 
> -Istus was originally going to tell Jon he didn't fail, but let's be real he kinda did in a way. Look, I love Jon so much and I personally don't think he should be antagonized as much as he is but at the same time Jon definitely thinks he failed and like I'm not gonna tell him how he should feel
> 
> Thanks again for reading!


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